You're the greatest knight in all of Tyluria. You've slain dragons, campaigned against orcs, and won oh so many tournaments. That comes with a lot of attention. Young soldiers you've never even met come up to you, recount your exploits to you with glee, and beg you to spar with them, just once. The ladies of the king's court, though... they beg you for something else.

You were born a peasant and drafted as a teenager by your local lord into his army in order to fight against a necromancer that had popped up in the woods. When the line fell apart, a brave knight named Sir Holbart tried to lead a daring operation to kill the necromancer, but he would have died if you hadn't blocked an arrow with your body.

Sir Hobart was then permitted to kill the necromancer and save the day, but his mind wasn't on victory. It was filled with worry for the young peasant boy who nearly gave his life for him. He personally ensured you got the best care, and when you recovered, he brought you on as a squire. Serving as a squire to an expert knight and well-respected nobleman opened a lot of doors, and your experiences fighting in wars and training alongside him has turned you into one of the finest warriors in the realm, perhaps the continent once he finally tapped his blade on your shoulders. When Sir Hobart finally succumbed to age and sickness, he tried to leave you with all of his land holdings so you could finally have a title, as you were the closest thing to a son he ever had.

It was then that you finally learned for real how different life was for someone like you.

The courts refused to grant you Sir Hobart's land, and instead divided it among noble bidders. At the very least, likely due to your service to the King's army, they did legitimize your knighthood. And so doors were opened that you never would have had otherwise.

You've seen even more battles, slain even more beasts, and participated in as many tournaments as you can (you are undefeated, naturally), so a modest wealth and a titanic reputation follows you. As does the attention...

The king, an admirer of your feats, granted you a humble room in his castle so that he may sponsor your tournament appearances and send you on quests to deal with threats. Here, you regularly rub shoulders with the nobles of the court. The females in the court in particular enjoy your company. And your strength. And your body. You can't help but notice when you ride into a joust that the ladies all undo a button on the cleavages of their dresses in hopes that you will grant your rose to them.

As of today, your number of regular lovers is at 16, but that is subject to growth at any time.

You're really a toy to them. They could never love a peasant boy like you, no matter how strong. Marriage is unlikely as well. You're too prestigious to marry a oeasant, yet not noble enough to marry a lady of thr court. Still... you have little to complain about. Lady Downstripe did gift you a lovely silk scarf last week...